“And…I’m boring myself just talking about this.”
He looked bored. Too bored. This would not make great television. Len sighed and switched off the camera.
“It’s a little weird talking about yourself into a camera, isn’t it, Jim?” He asked.
Jim raised his eyebrows and gave a little shrug.
“Look, what I find is that sometimes it helps to just loosen up a little. Maybe diving in head-first wasn’t the best idea. Why don’t you and I just get to know each other a little first.”
“Okay.”
This wasn’t going to be easy. Of all the places to film a documentary, Len could not understand why this struggling paper company in Podunk full of boring, ugly people ever snagged the role. Michael had clearly oversold the entertainment value of his branch. Michael was an entertaining character, he could easily be the next Omarosa if this were a weekly series. But these other people…man.
“Anything you like to do in your spare time?”
“I dunno, nothing interesting. Basketball with friends, watch TV.”
Len tried not to grind his teeth. For a guy who was obviously charming and friendly to his coworkers, he was putting up a wall, and fast.
"Where did you grow up."
"Around here. Went to college here. Now I work here."
"You must like it here, then."
"It's home."
Silence. Can't this guy crack a joke about putting office supplies in jell-o or something?
"Did you always plan on going into sales?”
“Does anyone?”
Len sighed. This was going nowhere.
“Something bothering you, Jim?”
“Look, I…this wasn’t where I wanted to end up, okay? And this is just a stepping stone to other things. I graduated during a recession and these were the only people hiring. It’s a frustrating job and I guess I don’t want to literally broadcast my sorry state to all of America. I don’t want to be labeled a slacker when I’m only 25.”
That was fair.
“Jim, I’ll let you in on a little secret. This ‘show’,” he indicated with air quotes, “I don’t expect it to be a big hit. In all likelihood, we’ll shoot enough material for a few episodes, we’ll show it to the production company, and they’ll either show it in several years or pass on it altogether. So you don’t have to, you know, worry that you’ll be mobbed by fangirls down at the Stonetown Mall or anyth—“
“Steamtown.” Jim corrected.
“Steamtown, right, that’s what I said. So don’t be afraid to open up. In all likelihood only a few people will see it.”
Jim seemed to visibly relax a little. This was good. Len wasn’t sure how much of what he’d said was true, but he had a job and he was going to say and do what he had to in order to do it.
“So what do you think of your coworkers?” He asked.
Jim made a surprised face, almost like a staged smirk. Len wondered if he could get him to make it on camera.
“This is off the record, Jim, just so I can get a feel for the dynamics here.”
Jim scratched his head and glanced over Len’s shoulder for just a fraction of a second. “Oh, you know, they’re great. Kind of a motley crew, definitely the type of people I wouldn’t have met otherwise…” He continued talking but Len was only half-listening. When Jim averted his eyes to look at the opposite wall, he snuck a peak over his shoulder to see what or who Jim had been looking at. It was the reception desk. The receptionist. He had seen Jim over there a couple times today, talking and laughing with the receptionist. They seemed like good friends, really good friends, yet Jim hadn’t breathed a word about her yet. It was almost as if he was avoiding the subject.
This could get interesting. Was there a secret office romance he could uncover?
“How’s your love life?”
Jim laughed nervously and looked at his hands. “Um, not much to talk about there.”
That wasn’t exactly a no.
“I’d like to turn the camera back on if I could, Jim. Would you be alright with that?” He nodded. “Great!” Len switched on the camera.
“Ever think about leaving?”
“If I left, what would I do with all this useless information in my head? You know? Tonnage price of manila folders? Um, Pam's favorite flavor of yogurt, which is mixed berry.”
Len nodded, keeping a straight face. This could definitely get interesting.
----
“Do you like being a receptionist, Pam?”
“No.” Her reply was dull and flat. She didn’t make eye contact. She looked at the floor. She spoke too softly for the mike to really register her voice.
Fuck. She was going to be even more difficult than the other one. He sat there thinking. He saw a small diamond ring on her left hand. An engagement ring. Engaged women LOVE talking about their weddings, can’t shut up about them. Maybe if he could get her talking about that, she’d loosen up and talk about more.
He gestured toward her hand. “I see you’re engaged! Congratulations.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Roy. From the warehouse.”
“Why don’t you tell me a bit about him? And remember to use his name since my question will get cut out in editing.”
“Oh, okay. Um, well, Roy is my fiancé. We've been engaged about three years. We were supposed to get married in September but I think we're gonna get married in the spring.” Her uneasy smile and then stopped talking altogether.
“Better weather, or...?”
“Um, yeah, plus weddings are so expensive and things just keep coming up, you know, little expenses.” She stopped, eyes to the floor, the unmistakable look of disappointment in her face. This was clearly a touchy subject, and not one that was going to yield an interesting interview.
“So…” Len was grasping at straws here. “I hear your favorite yogurt is mixed berry.”
Great, talk about yogurt. You officially have the dullest interview subject if this is your Hail Mary.
She looked up and met his eyes, puzzled. “Who told you that?”
“Jim, the salesman.”
“Jim said mixed berries? Well, yeah, he's on to me. Um...” And she started laughing. Laughing in a way she hadn’t when around Roy, a light in her eyes that hadn’t existed when she was talking about her own wedding plans.
-----
He watched them both leave that night. A few bits of awkward conversation, then Pam scurrying off to the car where her fiancé waited impatiently. Len had tried all day to get him to sit down for an interview, and when he finally did he instantly regretted it. Roy had no…anything. No depth, no reflection, no drive, no interests, nothing. When asked how long he’d been with Pam, he blanked and said, “I dunno, man, it was during high school I think.” He had nothing interesting to say and seemed to know it. He was immature and made crude jokes at Len’s expense. It was clear to Len that Roy would only ever be hired to stack boxes and load trucks for the rest of his life.
He had clearly been athletic once, probably a football player, which would explain his appeal to a teenaged Pam. Years of drinking beer had added inches to his waistline. He didn’t seem like a bad guy to Len, just not a very nice one. He clearly was “comfortable” with his life: he lived with a girl who wasn’t pushing him very hard to get married, had a job that paid enough where he could goof off during the day with his buddies, and owned a big truck. Len had noticed this trend with other guys he’d met in other documentaries, particularly the meat-packers he’d met when filming a documentary in Minnesota: the dimmer their future prospects, the more young men turned to big trucks.
Now Len sat in the lobby of the building looking out into the dark parking lot. He saw the resignation in Pam’s eyes and knew, knew, that she wasn’t too tired to go have a drink with Jim. He saw the disappointment in his, and thought he might say something about it. Just then, Jim caught a glance of the camera, and Len, and realized they were being watched, and stopped speaking. Pam left. Jim watched, but only for a moment.
Len wasn’t the type of guy to get emotionally involved in his projects. He always kept his subjects at arm’s length, and for good reason: involving himself too much in the lives of the subjects might change their reaction, and his job was to document their activities, not shape them. Not that he didn’t help shape the final product; editing was a godsend, as far as he was concerned, and turned even the most boring subjects into riveting stories. God knows this project would need a lot of editing. But now, watching a young man with messy hair say good-night to a young woman who didn’t want to leave…Len couldn’t help but feel for the guy.
Alright, stop that, you’ve got a job to do. Make this interesting. He got up and walked outside with the camera on his shoulder.
“Jim,” he called out. Jim turned around, and Len adjusted the camera lens. Jim was no actor, and Len easily caught the sadness and surprise on his face. “So, what does a young, single paper salesman find himself doing on a Friday night in Scranton?”
The word “single” clearly stung. Zoom in.
“Uh, well, happy hour at Poor Richard’s…” he gestured over his shoulder.
“Mind if we film it?”
“Um…you know, I don’t think so. You know, people are drinking, there’s a camera…” he smiled awkwardly, clearly attempting a joke.
Why does this guy freeze up every time I film him? He’s so easygoing with everyone else. If I’m going to get what I need to get, I need him to trust me.
Len shut off the camera. He had what he needed. “Look, it’s hard to have a camera guy following you around everywhere. It takes some getting used to. Like I said earlier, it sometimes helps to get to know each other. Buy you a beer? You can tell me more about yourself. And I promise I’ll leave the camera in the van.”
Jim hesitated, then finally nodded. “See you there, I guess.”
Len got in the van and followed Jim’s red car out of the parking lot. What had seemed like a project about a failing company and its oblivious boss had turned into something more. The wheels were churning in his head. He could easily sell this as a love triangle with a legitimate, obvious roadblock to the two heroes getting together. And he wouldn’t even have to fake it in editing.
Getting these two to talk about their feelings would be a challenge. The drama here would have to come from what they didn’t say to each other, from what they wouldn’t admit to themselves, and from what little things they did and said when they thought no one was looking. It was a risky gambit, but it just might sell.
Story Notes:
The inspiration from this story comes from the DVD commentary for "Company Picnic" in which someone noted that Jim had probably formed a friendship with the camera man during the past five years, and he might want to share this big moment with him. This is my take on how that friendship might have developed.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Chapter Notes:
"Pilot" as seen through the camera guy's eyes. This is just the expository chapter, nothing momentous.
Chapter End Notes:
Pam and Jim seemed so much more closed-off and reserved in this episode compared to later ones, so I thought I'd use that. I always thought the "relationship" with the camera changed as the show went on.
Anyway, this is an un-beta'd story so your thoughts are especially appreciated. This is my first story so please be gentle.
Anyway, this is an un-beta'd story so your thoughts are especially appreciated. This is my first story so please be gentle.
